Originally Posted by
anonymouse
Forbidden Fruits
I've never liked management seminars. From the moment you arrive, you're treated like a five-year-old attending school for the very first time. At the registration table, bright, shiny kids fresh out of management school present you with a bright, shiny name badge and an 'information pack' that looks like it was assembled by Ronald McDonald. Then you're herded into an auditorium and forced to endure hours of PowerPoint presentations; animated words dance on the screen around stick-figure drawings that supposedly represent 'your staff' or 'your clients'. For heaven's sake! I work in a department store and they're not clients; they're customers! What's wrong with calling them customers?
The lunch break provided blessed relief from the monotony of the morning sessions. Ordinarily I would have had a glass of red wine with my chicken salad but, since none was offered, (delete) I settled for juice. Others at my table appeared to be content with their Perrier water and fizzy sports drinks. I ate silently and prayed nobody would engage me in conversation.
"May I join you?"
I looked up in the direction of the voice. A fresh-faced young blond man with the most dazzling blue eyes I've ever seen smiled down at me. The chunk of tomato in my mouth refused to be swallowed unless I chewed.
"Mmm," I nodded. His warm smile immediately melted me.
"Thank you."
I detected the hint of an accent in his voice; Scandinavian, maybe Danish. He placed his plate and drink on the table then sat beside me.
"I'm Mark," he said.
"Ingrid," I replied. The sweet scent of his cologne engulfed my senses. I dabbed my lips with a napkin, partly out of habit but mostly to conceal a hot flush I felt suddenly come over me. 'Juice. Drink some juice,' I said to myself. He stared at me; I could feel it.
"I see you chose the chicken, as well," said Mark.
"Yes," I smiled back at him. I caught a glimpse of his eyes again but dared not look too long for fear he'd mesmerize me. His smile too; (this should be a dash or a comma here. a semicolon is used to join two independent clauses)such beautiful white teeth and soft, almost voluptuous, lips.
"How are you enjoying it?" Mark asked.
"Oh, it's very nice," I replied.
"Yes. I'm looking forward to the workshop session after lunch," Mark said.
'Stupid!' a voice in my head yelled. 'He's talking about the seminar, not the food!'
"Oh yes, the seminar," I said. It was too late to tell him what I really thought about that and besides, he clearly sounded like he enjoyed it. I resumed eating.
"Do you have a partner for the workshop?" Mark asked.
It was impossible to answer until I swallowed, and this was difficult now because his question caused a knot to form in my stomach. 'He's going to ask me to be his partner,' said the voice in my head. "No," I finally managed to say.
"Would you mind?" he asked.
"With you?" I replied.
"If you don't mind," Mark smiled.
His eyes caught mine. I felt a tingle run down my spine that left in its wake a trail of goose bumps.
"I should warn you I'm not very good at role-play," I said. I had to say something; anything to get my mind off his eyes.
He leaned very close and whispered, "I'll teach you."
It was as if he'd physically breached an invisible force field around me and the electricity of his proximity paralyzed me. I gripped my knife and fork tightly in my hands. "Mmm," I responded. The utterance resonated through my chest.
Mark leaned away and casually continued to eat his meal. I had to consciously command my hands to operate my knife and fork again. In the long silence that ensued, my jangled nerves slowly settled. 'Just relax, and remember to breathe,' the voice in my head reassured me.
Mark's voice saying 'I'll teach you' resounded over and over in my mind. I desperately wanted to ask, 'Are you flirting with me?' but the question seemed preposterous. Surely he wasn't, but I felt compelled to ask. "So, you can teach me to be a tree?"
"Pardon me?"
Mark suddenly looked directly at me and smiled.
'Oh god,' I thought. 'Now I'm flirting with him! Think, Ingrid. Think!'
"Every time I go to one of these seminars, they always have a role-play workshop," I said. "They're ridiculous! Grown adults told to 'imagine you're a tree' or 'imagine you're a rock' and then forced to act it. I'm sorry but my staff prefer to be managed by a real human being - not a tree or a rock."
Mark stared at me with a sort of blank look for a moment and then laughed loudly. "That's funny!"
I was actually serious, but his laughter was infectious and I laughed as well.
"Is that what they do here?" Mark asked. "Really?"
"Yes. Why, what did you think these role-play workshops involved?"
"Well, back in Sweden we used to do one that was based on that movie The Secretary. Do you know the movie?"
My thoughts suddenly reeled at Mark's question. Yes, I did know the movie and secretly loved the office scenes in it. I took more time than was necessary to chew and swallow my mouthful of food. Mark seemed to study me while he waited patiently for my answer.
"I've seen it," I finally said.
"Did you like it?" he asked.
I felt a sense of (this is a bit redundant, stick with either "felt an invisible trap. . . . " or "sensed an invisible trap")an invisible trap about to spring.
"It was interesting," I replied.
"Interesting."
I wasn't sure whether Mark said it to echo my appraisal, or whether it was an expression of a deeper thought I now suspected he had about me. At first,(delete -- unnecessary) a cold wash of numbness crept through me followed by a tingling sensation all over as anxiety and guilt gripped me. "Yes, interesting," I said in an effort to deflect the conversation back to the movie.
Mark turned sideways in his chair to face me fully. "Yes, you are interesting," he said in a matter-of-fact tone.
My ears and face began to burn from the rush of sudden embarrassment. I would have reached for the comfort of my drink if my arms hadn't suddenly become like lead. Mark smiled at me;(you should go with a comma here or perhaps a dash would heighten the emotional impact) a curious smile, seemingly more to himself than at me. I wanted to smile back but the muscles in my face required for that ceased to serve me. My conscience began to speak loudly and repeated, 'No. No. No!'
"So, do you want to be my partner for the role-play?" Mark asked.
It felt as if my heart physically leapt up my throat as the reply gushed from my mouth, "Yes!"
The end.
